All I Have Left
by writergirl75
Summary: Everyone knows that Oliver Queen lies…and in the distant future he lies to Sara Lance about Felicity Smoak. AKA a very Olicity take on "Star City 2046".
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: If you haven't watched the _DC's Legends of Tomorrow_ episode "Star City 2046" I highly recommend it, but I hope this story is enjoyable as a future fic even if you haven't. In that episode Oliver says that Felicity left after the city was destroyed – but that didn't sit well with me and he seemed to know an awful lot of stuff about her and her company. So that led me to this…it will probably be a few short chapters, and is somehow managing to be both fluffy and angsty. Happy reading

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All I Have Left

 **Chapter One**

Deep underneath the chaos and death that was the streets of Star City in the year 2046, Oliver Queen sat in a long forgotten room methodically gluing together the shattered arm of a pair of glasses with one hand. It was a laborious process, and he'd only recently figured out how to do it, employing a vice and several small clamps to replace the function of a human hand. His mechanical arm – one of Cisco Ramon's last miracles – wasn't equipped for such delicate movements. He worked in the light of a single task lamp, and his own aging eyes squinted to make out the edges of the small bits of plastic.

Hearing the painfully slow squeak of wheelchair wheels behind him he turned, pasting a smile on his tired face.

"You should be in bed," he told her, deliberately blocking her view of what he'd been working on. "It's late." It didn't escape him that time and smoke damage now made his voice sound almost like that ridiculous voice modifier he'd worn so many years ago.

"So should you," she said softly. She reached up to tuck short pieces of grey-brown hair behind her ears. He'd had to trim that hair himself, badly, with dull office scissors when it had finally grown out. It was a constant source of relief to him that it now covered one of her worst scars.

"Besides," she said, struggling to move herself closer to him. "I've spent too much time in that bed. I like that I can finally move around a little."

Swallowing back a fresh wave of pain at how difficult it was for her to even move her arms, he forced himself to stay still and let her do the work. Scratching at his long grey beard he managed to force some humor into his voice, "If I'd known you were going to push yourself so much, I wouldn't have bothered to find that damned wheelchair."

She gave him a feisty look, which for just a moment, reminded him of her younger self. "You, mister, are not the boss of me," she declared.

Something approaching an actual smile crossed his face, and he moved toward her. "Come on, let's get some sleep."

Ignoring her protests he put a hand out to help her push her chair. It had taken some practice, but he now knew how to exert the right force on the handle, so that even with his one hand he could keep the wheelchair going fairly straight. They slowly made their way into the room that had become their sad excuse for a home. It was furnished with bits and pieces Oliver had managed to scavenge – their makeshift bed, a propane stove, mismatched chairs.

Pushing the wheelchair as close as possible to the bed, Oliver set the chair's one functioning wheel brake, and then moved around to face her. He saw a look of profound sadness on her face and immediately crouched down, "What is it?"

She shook her head. "Sometimes I just…I can't believe I'm in this chair again."

He swallowed hard and then cleared his throat. One of Deathstroke Junior's goons had hit Felicity in the lower back hard enough to damage the miraculous microchip that had one kept her walking. Oliver fought the red flood of rage that always threatened to overtake him. Keeping her alive was his mission now. Revenge would have to wait until he truly had nothing to lose. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"My choice," she whispered back, forcing a tired smile on her face. It was an exchange they had almost daily – her trying to convince him that none of this was his fault.

Nodding tiredly, he leaned forward and put his one arm around her waist, as she reached out her stronger arm to wrap around his neck. In a motion so practiced it now felt routine he pulled her up against his chest and then turned to set her on the bed.

Then they both froze as their silence was shattered by the sound of the elevator moving on the other side of the building. Oliver swore under his breath. "You know what to do."

"At least take one of the ear piece's so I can know what's going on," Felicity said, and the raw fear in her eyes shook him. They both knew that if Grant Wilson had found them, a quick death was the best case scenario.

Oliver handed Felicity one of the small ear buds that had once been part of their nightly gear and slipped one into his own ear. They were tiny – invisible to the naked eye. He hurried to their small cache of weapons and chose the one most likely to scare off a casual looter, a wicked looking gun.

He moved toward the abandoned room that had once been epicenter of his team. He saw flashlight beams moving and heard voices. Thankfully, it seemed like a small group. Moving out of the shadows and raising the gun, he said it his hardest voice, "Whoever's there get out. I said get out! Whoever you are get out!"

However as Oliver came into their flashlight beams he felt a flood of relief, recognizing the profile of John Diggle Jr., now calling himself Connor Hawke. The kid was dressed in a convincing replica of the costume Oliver himself had once worn. He knew the kid had been playing Green Arrow, had seen him in the streets as he'd scavenged for the things he and Felicity needed. He'd even, quietly helped John Jr. a few times, but only in ways that didn't reveal his identity or risk his ability to return to Felicity's side.

And there was a woman there, dressed in odd, light colored clothes, a face that, even in the dim light, instantly registered in his brain. Still it took her speaking his name before he could figure out what he was seeing.

"Oliver?" she said, her voice filled with disbelief.

In his ear piece Felicity's anxious voice asked. "Who is it?"

"Hello, Sara." Oliver said, answering both the woman in front of him and the one who was listening through his earpiece. "Long time, no see."

A man to Sara's right, a thin man in a long trench coat asked, "Is that?"

"Oliver Queen," Connor responded to the man's question as Oliver walked forward.

Oliver's mind raced even as he calmly walked forward. Sara hadn't aged a day since the last time he'd seen her and he quickly figured out what he was looking at. Sara Lance who'd disappeared in a time machine to save the world with Ray Palmer. He'd thought of them a few times over the years, assumed they were dead – since the world, very definitely, did not appear to be saved.

In his ear Felicity hissed, "Is that really Sara Lance?" He tilted his head to one side, listening to her agitated voice. "Is she alone?"

"Everyone thinks that you're dead," Sara said as he walked toward her.

"They're not wrong." Oliver said. He needed to be dead – a dead man that Grant Wilson would have no interest in. A ghost who could have the time and the space and the safety to care for the woman he still loved.

Searching for a way to answer Felicity's question without revealing her presence, Oliver said. "Put the arrow down John, you're embarrassing yourself."

"John?" the man in the trench coat asked.

"John Diggle Junior." Oliver said, once again able to answer the man in front of him while feeding information to Felicity.

Connor removed his mask, and Oliver felt a new flood of grief. He looked a bit like his father, especially the sincerity of his expression. "My dad is dead because I couldn't save him," Connor said. "I don't deserve his name. I'm Connor Hawke."

The words irritated him. Oliver understood the kid's guilt and grief, better than anyone, but John Diggle would have been the first person to tell his son he was an idiot. Seeing the kid also reminded him that he was being an idiot in another way, risking his life every night to fight an unwinnable war.

"So you won't take his name, but it's alright to parade around in someone else's outfit," Oliver said, letting his anger seep into his voice.

"Oliver Queen, don't talk to John's son like that!" Felicity snapped in his ear.

Oliver flinched at her words but kept his face impassive as Connor started to berate him.

"Well someone has to," the young man said. "Because the last time that I checked you were dead, everyone thought you were dead, and I am trying to hold this city together by myself because I thought you were gone." In obvious frustration, Connor stepped away from him.

Oliver watched as Sara stepped forward, her eyes roaming over his missing arm and his face. "What happened to you?" she asked. "To Laurel, to my Dad, Felicity…"

At Felicity's name Oliver's protective instincts roared to life. No one could know about her, no one could hurt her. "They're gone. All of them," he said quickly.

"What do you mean?" Sara asked.

Felicity's voice filled his ear. "Why are you lying to her about me? It's bad enough that Canary and Captain Lance…"

"Ollie?" Sara's voice brought him back to the conversation in front of him.

"Gone." Her face looked confused, and he felt a surge of anger. He wanted her out of here, with her perfect skin and hopeful eyes. He wanted to go back to Felicity, the only thing that was left of his life. "What do you want me to say Sara? Thirty years ago you and Ray hopped on a spaceship, and you just never came back."

"We will," Sara said emphatically.

Even as he started to talk, Felicity was speaking to him, but he blocked out her voice. She would want to help them, she would want to see Sarah. And he wasn't going to let that happen.

Focusing on Sara he said, "I don't want to say that things would have ended differently if you and Ray had been here, but…"

"But if we were it could have made the difference," Sarah said, finishing his sentence.

Felicity's voice was shrill now – angry. "Don't say that to her Oliver – if they'd been here they would have just been killed like…"

Oliver turned struggling to shut out her voice and speaking to Sara said, "You thought I was dead, what are you doing here?"

"We were looking for a neuromorphic prototype that Felicity Smoak was working on," the man in the trench coat said.

Internally, Oliver sighed. There was no way Felicity was going to keep quiet about this and instantly she said in his ear. "There's one at the warehouse."

"Felicity left after everything that happened." Oliver said, lying again. He couldn't quite bring himself to say she was dead. "Everything her company was working on is being kept in a warehouse at Adams and O'Neil. The entry code is 4587." He knew that because he'd moved the projects himself, protecting the best he could his wife's legacy even as he wondered, at the time, if she'd even survive her injuries.

"Thank you, Mr…." the man in the trench coat started to say.

But Oliver didn't want to hear it – he just wanted them gone. Just wanted any fight – any trouble- as far away from Felicity as possible. "You found your way in, you can find your way out."

He felt their eyes boring into his back as he turned back toward the shadows. It took a great deal of patience to wait, listening to their footsteps as they made their way back to the elevator, holding his breath until the noise of that elevator stopped.

Slowly he made his way back to Felicity. He expected to meet angry eyes and a stern lecture but instead he found her slumped back in the bed a hand over her eyes.

"Was that really Sara?" she asked, her voice sounding as tired as he felt.

"Yes," he said, putting the gun away and moving to turn off the one light in the room. In the dark he sat on the edge of the bed. "Time travel suits her…she looks exactly the same."

He heard Felicity sniffle and he moved to touch her face, which was wet with tears. "I'm glad she didn't see me," Felicity whispered, and Oliver could tell she was using one hand to cover the long thin scar that went from the middle of her left cheek down over jaw line.

The weight of his emotions exhausted him, but he used the little energy he had left to lean on his arm and plant a kiss on her forehead. "Doesn't matter," he said gruffly, burying his face in the pillow beside her head. "She's gone now, and she won't be back."

He felt Felicity nod, and pushed himself back up, kicking off his boots to lie down beside her. The storm of regret and loss calmed as he felt her head come to rest on the stump of his left arm.

After a few minutes of quiet she whispered. "Did John Jr. look okay?"

"Yeah," Oliver said, moving to press a kiss into the top of her hair. "He looks good."

"I'm proud of him," she whispered. "Digg would be proud of him too."

Oliver swallowed hard. "Yeah, he would."

In the dark Oliver Queen did not rest, and his only comfort was when finally, after too long, he heard Felicity's quiet tears change to the long easy breaths of sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So there are two things I especially like about this chapter - 1) I get to make Oliver truly heroic, something that _Arrow,_ bless it's little uneven heart, could definitely use a lot more of, and 2) I get to hint at some truly geek-tacular things, yay fanfiction!

Oh, and I'm writing this quickly and without a beta – so I apologize in advance for the inevitable typos.

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 **Chapter Two**

It was hours later – how many he wasn't sure, when he heard the elevator again.

"Aw, hell," he muttered into the dark. "What now?"

Felicity stirred beside him, going rigid with tension. "Oliver?"

"It's the elevator again," he said, sitting. When she started to push herself upright he said. "Stay put, it's freezing."

"At least put me in my chair," she protested. "I felt like a sitting duck last time."

Oliver resisted the urge to point out that she was just as likely to be murdered in her wheelchair as in their bed, but it was too grim, even for him. Instead he growled, "That's not the plan."

The plan was that Felicity was supposed to stay quietly hidden in this room, and if discovered, use one of the weapons that were strapped to the bottom of their bedframe. Though whether she'd have the strength to do so was always in question. There was also one other possible way for her to survive – a long shot, last resort, that he never told her about. A "panic button" of sorts that might bring help from an old friend.

He didn't think it would be necessary tonight though. Hopefully, this was just Sara or Connor come back for something else.

As he moved across the room to turn on the light, Felicity's voice was pleading. "Please Oliver, I promise I'll stay in reach of the weapons."

"Fine," he said. It had better be someone friendly, because this debate was taking too much damned time. He maneuvered her into the chair and pulled one of the blankets from the bed to drape around her.

"Take your coat," Felicity said as he left the room. "It is freezing."

He did, but mostly so he could tuck a semi-automatic in the pocket. By the time he reached the main room, he could hear Sara calling his name.

"I thought I told you to go," he said, making his way through the wreckage of the room.

"Grant Wilson has Connor. They're gonna kill him," she said striding purposefully toward him, holding some kind of case in her hand.

He was glad Felicity hadn't thought to make him take an ear piece this time. He didn't want her to hear this. To Sarah he said, "He knew what he was signing up for. And you know there's nothing I can do to help."

He meant every word of it. He should feel like a monster, casually consigning his best friend's son to a grisly death, but he'd made his choice fifteen years ago. Living up to that choice had required hundreds of sacrifices large and small – never seeing his children or his grandchildren, letting Barry and the others think he was dead, giving up on any chance of escaping Star City for a slightly less terrible brand of hell.

"That's not the Oliver Queen that I know," Sarah said.

"Maybe I'm not that person anymore," he said, though he didn't tell her the real meaning of those words. That man, time and time again, chose the mission over the people he cared about. And that hadn't been him, not for a long time.

He needed to get her out of her. Let her think he was a coward, he didn't care. "Look at me, Sarah," he said. "I am literally half the man I used to be."

"Then that's the half this city needs," she said, and her unwavering determination almost made him smile. "He's got too many men Ollie. I can't do this by myself."

Surprisingly he felt her words stir something inside of him. Seeing her brought back a time when he'd felt like a survivor, felt capable of changing his own fate. Still, he wasn't going to change his course. "What about your friends?"

"I'm on my own. Unless I'm not," she said. And then she turned, pulling a bow from the case.

He tilted his head in disbelief. Where had she even come up with that? "Come on Sara."

"I never got the chance to ask Connor why he wears the hood. But I know why," with that she pulled the bow up, and he recognized it as it made a familiar noise, expanding automatically. "Because this city will always need a Green Arrow."

Oliver recognized the bow then. Why did it have to be that bow? The one Felicity nearly died to create – the one that was supposed to help him move forward and continue to fight after Grant Wilson took his arm. She had promised to leave when it was finished – to go into hiding and help protect what was left of their family. But Wilson had found her, and he had made them both pay dearly for that delay.

"I can't," he said simply to Sara.

"Yes you can," came a quiet voice from the shadows.

Sara's eyes flew to locate the source of that voice and Oliver's eyes closed as he heard the tell-tale sound of Felicity's wheelchair behind him.

Even as Felicity pushed her chair into the dim light, he could see that Sara didn't recognize her old friend. It forced him to make the comparison, the one he fought hard to avoid, between the woman his wife had once been, and what she was now. Her frame once leanly muscular was rail thin, and one shoulder drooped slightly due to the fact that her shattered collar bone had never healed properly. It made her whole upper body pull to the side and unfortunately brought the scar on her neck and face into stark relief. He also realized, with a start, that Sara had never even seen Felicity with brown hair. Felicity had stopped dyeing it the first time she was pregnant, and had never started again.

He wished he'd managed to have fixed her glasses; Felicity always looked more like Felicity with glasses.

It wasn't until Felicity smiled and said, "Hey Sara" that he finally saw a spark of recognition in Sara's eyes.

"Felicity?" Sara said. That one word held a wealth of horror and disbelief.

Oliver clenched his teeth and stepped between them, blocking Sara's view of his wife. "I told you no," he said firmly. "Go back to your ship, and your friends, and get the hell out of here while you still can."

Sara shoved the bow at him giving him no choice but to take it or let it fall to the ground, then she stepped around him and walked toward Felicity. Oliver saw her compose herself and then she gave Felicity a semi-convincing version of her old cocky grin. "Don't worry grandma, you're still cute."

Felicity laughed; of course it ended with a bone rattling cough. She was just recovering from a fourth bout of pneumonia – it was the reason he'd moved them here two months ago – the roof on their old place had started to leak. He'd felt like it was finally safe enough to risk coming back to their old lair, that no one would still be looking for him. Apparently, he'd been wrong.

"You think you're funny," Felicity said through her cough. "But I'll have you know I am a grandmother," then her laughter died and her face fell. "Could be one several times over now – for all I know."

Sara looked between Oliver and Felicity, her expression troubled but determined. "This is why you wanted us gone, isn't it?" she asked him. "You didn't want us to know she was here."

Sara was always a little too perceptive for his comfort. He clenched his teeth and glared at her. "And now you know why I'm not stepping one foot out of this room. If Grant Wilson knew I was alive, or worse, that Felicity was alive…" The memory flooded back, each grim and vivid detail, Felicity's screams, all of the blood. The moment he'd put his own costume on the corpse of one of Wilson's goons and lit it on fire. Knowing Felicity's only chance to survive was for them both to be dead.

"He doesn't need to know about Felicity," Sara said. "We can find a way to protect her."

Again Oliver's anger bubbled to the top. "What 'we' Sara?!" he shouted, tossing the bow back into its case, and moving once again to stand between his old friend and Felicity. "You said yourself you're on your own. What makes that idiot kid's life worth more than Felicity's, or more than yours for that matter?"

He felt out of breath at the force of his anger. It had been a long time since he'd shouted at anyone, it almost hurt. Glaring at Sara, he dared her to argue with him.

But it wasn't Sara who spoke. "Oliver," Felicity said, her voice a strained whisper. "He's John's son."

He tried to harden his heart against her words, but it wasn't working. Maybe if he hadn't seen the kid only hours earlier, maybe if Sara hadn't been here suggesting he could do something about it...he felt conflicted for the first time in a decade.

Then Felicity continued her voice heavy with unshed tears. "I'm the reason John Jr.'s father died, Oliver. I won't be the reason that he dies."

"What?" Sara said, her face a mask of shock again. She looked at Felicity, "I can't believe you'd ever do anything to hurt Digg."

"She didn't," Oliver said firmly.

"He was trying to protect me," Felicity said, staring at her lap. "He could have left with Sara and Carly, but he wouldn't leave me."

"Carly?" Sara said confused.

"Connor's mother," Oliver said, and then he remembered when Sara and Ray had left. "Digg married her after…" he shook his head. "It doesn't matter now."

He walked toward his wife, and crouched down in front of her to take her hand. "Felicity, Digg lived to protect the people he loved, I'm sure he was content to die doing the same thing."

She reached up with her weaker arm and awkwardly brushed tears from her face. Then she looked up at him, and her expression was as hard and determined as she'd ever seen it. "If you don't try to save John Jr. I will never forgive you."

He couldn't help but smile slightly. "I'm not sure I believe that. You've forgiven me for a lot of things."

"Not this," she said, shaking her head. He could tell that she believed it, and it was so good to see some of her old fight, some of her old spark. And that he realized…that might actually be something he was willing to fight for.

"Okay," he said quietly.

A huge smile broke across Felicity's face. "Okay?" she said.

He nodded and reached into his pocket. There was a chance this was the end for him which made it time to confess about that "last resort" of his. The communicator was an innocuous little thing, a small piece of an elaborate system once created by the combined efforts of Felicity, Curtis Holt, Cisco, another girl in a wheelchair, and that obnoxious little friend of Kara's whose name he had forgotten.

"But only on two conditions," he told Felicity, pulling the device from his pocket. "That you use this if you need it, and that you forgive me for keeping it from you."

Felicity starred down at the device with its stylized "JL" logo, a small screen and two buttons. In essence it was a glorified walkie-talkie – the difference was that this walkie-talkie reached anywhere in the world – or in the galaxy, technically. She frowned, "But you told me they disbanded after Savage killed Bruce and Cl…"

He cut her off. "I lied. And it's still active, which means…"

"Someone's maintaining the system," Felicity said.

Oliver let out a big sigh and nodded. "And I've heard reports on the street, of a red blur that's still giving Vandal Savage hell."

"Barry?" Felicity said, incredulously.

Oliver nodded. "Or Wally. Either way, if Sara and I don't come back I want you to use this to get help."

Felicity looked up at him, obviously stunned. "Why would you keep this from me?"

He put a knee on the ground to steady himself and reached up to touch her face. "What would you have done if you'd known?"

She shook her head, staring at the communicator, her voice full of frustration. "I would have told you to help them. One armed or not you're still the fracking Green Arrow."

Startled into it, he chuckled, and nodded. "But the fracking Green Arrow needed to be here," he said, and then all humor fell out of his voice, "You're all I have left, Felicity."

Sara cleared her throat, startling them both. "Not to rush you two, but Connor's clock is ticking."

Oliver pressed a quick kiss to Felicity's lips, and then stood up. The old persona settled around him so easily it was almost like slipping on his coat. Walking forward, he picked up the bow and felt the familiar weight of it in his hand. "You're right – but we need a plan."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the long delay in the update, but well, real life intervened, and then I wanted to make sure I had it nearly finished before I posted again. There will be one more chapter and I should have it up this weekend, thanks for the patience and the support guys!

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It wasn't a great plan.

In fact, it wasn't even a good one.

The worst part of it was how similar the scene felt to that moment so many years ago when Wilson had taken his arm. The blood thirsty crowd, the man in the green hood struggling with all he had to avoid the chopping block. Then there was a voice in his ear, "You can do this Oliver. I believe in you."

He couldn't respond of course, but Felicity's voice stilled some of the panic that was starting to claw at him.

From his perch, low on the top of a truck Oliver watched Sarah walk right into the hands of Wilson's men. It didn't matter that she was a trained assassin that he hadn't seen in forty years, he still had to grit his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. The idea of witnessing her death for a fourth time was distinctly unappealing.

Finally it was his turn and Oliver stood above the crowd, and waited as Sarah drew Wilson's attention to him. He was glad he didn't have to speak, he wasn't sure he could have, not with the same gravelly calm the Arrow had been known for.

Luckily, Wilson's attention shifted completely from John Jr., or Connor, or whatever to his older nemesis. Oliver's arm whirred and spun as he fired an explosive arrow and he was pleasantly surprised that his aim wasn't the least bit affected. His eyesight was another matter, but luckily in this crowd, as long as he didn't hit Sarah or Connor it didn't much matter.

He felt his stomach clench as Connor engaged Grant Wilson, and his knees protested heavily as he jumped to another vehicle to get closer, but adrenaline and self-preservation kept him moving, and he fired another arrow just in time to keep Wilson from taking off Connor's head.

Wilson's armor protected him, but the shot was enough to give Connor time to escape and Oliver to make another jump toward the masked little goon. Oliver's feet had to fight for purchase a bit on the roof, another reminder that he wasn't thirty anymore, but he stayed upright easily.

"You want to fight the Green Arrow?" he growled at Wilson, and if he was a little winded, that was only to be expected. "I'm right here."

And if he had to use blunt force a bit more than deft speed as Wilson attacked him, Oliver still held his own at first. Distantly he heard what sounded like laser blasts and Sarah shouting at someone, and he could only hope it was good news, he needed to focus on Wilson. Wilson, who was slowly, Oliver knew, gaining the upper hand on him.

Knowing the bow was a better weapon from a distance, Oliver shouted, "Connor!" and tossed it at the younger man. Just in time too, as Wilson's sword came at Oliver, Connor got off a shot that stopped the blow. Not pausing a moment, Oliver used the weight of his robotic arm to slam Wilson in the face, striking so hard that the man's mask came off, and he fell unconscious to the ground. Oliver waited for a moment to make sure the man was down, and then turned to see what the noise had been about.

If he thought he had been surprised to see Sarah it was an even bigger surprise to turn and see her entire crew, including Ray Palmer and Kendra Saunders in full getup standing below him.

"Oliver!" Felicity shouted in his ear, and he had to keep from smiling, she still knew not to distract him when he was fighting. "What's going on?"

"It's good to see you again, Ray, Kendra," he said. "Thanks for the assist."

Of course they wanted an explanation for Wilson. Oliver gave them the short version, the easier version about Slade. Then his attention shifted to the young man who reminded Oliver so much of his father, "That's good shooting, John."

The young man climbed up to Oliver and handed him back the bow. "It's Connor," he said, with a hint of cockiness, and Oliver was relieved to see that he seemed undeterred by his near run-in with death.

"Oh, let the kid be Connor," said Felicity in his ear.

Felicity's voice brought him back to earth. It had been one thing to help save Connor, and he knew now that he couldn't stay hidden as he once had, but he also could never go back to the man he used to be. His family, what was left of it, was going to have to come first. "Either way," he said firmly to Connor. "It's Green Arrow."

He took a deep breath and felt pain course through his aging body as the adrenaline wore off. Carefully and a bit clumsily he climbed down off the car. He noticed that Ray was still staring at him in shock. "Super suit or not," Oliver said as he walked slowly toward his old friend. "It will happen to you eventually."

Ray tilted his head. "I don't know Oliver, there's some promising new gene therapy that might…"

Oliver glared at Ray and was gratified when he shut up. "Right, sorry," Ray said with a half a grin, "Nice to see some things don't change."

"Is that really Ray Palmer?" Felicity said in his ear. "Oliver, can you please actually talk to me?"

Raising a hand to his ear Oliver smiled slightly, "Yes, Felicity," he said, and watched Palmer's eyes widen, "it's Ray Palmer."

"And you're alright?" she said.

"I'm fine," he said. "I'll be home soon."

The thin man in the trench coat, Rip Hunter, worked his way forward. "I'm glad to help set things right here, Mr. Queen, but I'm afraid if there's nothing else we can do for you we need to get moving."

Oliver opened his mouth to tell them goodbye but then looking at Ray he paused. "Actually, I think there's something very important Dr. Palmer might be able to help me with."

Ray frowned, "Me? You actually want help from me?"

There was a time when the quip would have elicited an ignorant response from Oliver, but this was too important to mess with. Still, he didn't want to get Felicity's hopes up so he disconnected the earpiece before he spoke. Clearing his throat he said, "It's for Felicity."

Ray's eyes went a little sad, and Oliver was surprised at the tiny stab of guilt that hit him. Ray had once loved Felicity too. "Of course it is," Ray said. "What can I do?"

"How much do you know about biomechanical technology?" Oliver asked, and for once he was actually glad to see Ray Palmer's cocky grin.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hi! There's actually going to be at least another chapter after this – because I decided I want a look at how Oliver and Felicity move forward together after the Legends team leaves. Also, can I just say that I got a surprising kick out of writing Oliver and Ray in this chapter? They're such great foils for each other.

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Chapter Four

Even though it genuinely felt like things had changed for the better, it was still difficult to let anyone, even Ray Palmer, know where Felicity was. Sara had stayed on the surface, working with Connor and the rest of her crew to clean up some of Grant Wilson's followers that Connor thought might try to cause trouble.

As they made their way into the abandoned building that housed the old lair, Oliver found himself curious about one thing.

"Uh, about your team? I know I'm the last person who should judge someone based on their past," he said to Ray as they stepped into the elevator. "But do you have…"

"Two notorious criminals working with us?" Ray said, in his usual peppy voice. Then he nodded, "Yes, yes we do."

"How's that going?" Oliver asked. He shifted the shoulder that held his mechanical arm – it was a miracle no doubt, but the thing weighed a freaking ton.

Ray tilted his head from side to side, and let out a little sigh. "It's a work in progress."

"Uh-huh," Oliver said, letting his doubts about the arrangement flood into the two syllables.

The elevator began moving down toward the basement. There was a long moment of silence, in which Ray kept sneaking what Oliver supposed were intended to be subtle glances at him. He couldn't imagine how he must look, and honestly, he didn't give a damn about it, but it did make him remember something important.

"Look, Ray," Oliver cleared his throat, staring at the floor. "I'm not the only one who has changed a lot since you saw us." He paused, trying to think of the best way to communicate what he wanted to say.

"Okay," Ray said, sounding puzzled.

"I need your promise that you'll be … that you'll control your reaction when you see Felicity," Oliver said, glancing to gauge Ray's reaction.

Ray gave him a tight smile, and the look in his eyes was a little hard. "She was always more than just a pretty face, Oliver. I know that as well as you do – and I'll make sure to keep it in mind."

Oliver nodded and cleared his throat, and then as the doors opened he caught the edge, turning back. "She's still a pretty face," he said, his voice going raspier than usual. "It's just changed a little."

The hard look in Ray's eyes faded, and he nodded. "Let's go."

They stepped off the elevator and Oliver was exasperated to see Felicity waiting for them in the main room. Her thin arms were working hard to push her wheelchair toward them. A look of joy crossed over her face as she saw him, and for a moment it was like there was no one else in the room. "You're okay," she said, sounding relieved. "You're really okay."

He moved quickly toward her and kneeled down. Putting his hand on her face he whispered, "I'm okay."

She dropped her forehead to his and for a moment they just breathed together – calmed to be in the same space.

Then there was a loud throat clearing from behind them and Ray said, "Yeah, I didn't miss this."

Oliver tried to hide his smile and failed. Climbing to his feet he motioned Ray forward. As promised Ray didn't even blink when he looked down at Felicity.

"Hey," Ray said, stepping toward them, his A.T.O.M. helmet still under one arm. "I see you put your name on my building,"

Felicity laughed, and it was one of the best sounds Oliver had ever heard. "Only after you'd been gone for ten years."

Ray smiled, "Fair enough."

Oliver took a deep breath – he hoped this wasn't a mistake. "I asked Ray if he could, well, if he could maybe look into helping you with the chip in your spine."

Felicity's smile fell away. "What?"

Oliver knelt down in front of her again. "I thought maybe he could get you walking again."

Her whole body stiffened, and an irritated look crossed her face. Looking up at Ray she said, "I don't remember you being a medical doctor."

"I'm not," Ray said easily. "But I am a genius, and I currently have access to a medbay that makes Star Trek look like the Dark Ages."

Felicity swallowed hard and Oliver saw that under her irritation she was deeply, deeply, afraid. He reached for one of her hands, and deliberately echoed her earlier words. "You can do this Felicity, I believe in you."

She tilted her head and her eyes narrowed, "Not fair, Mr. Queen."

He gave a little shrug. "Don't care, Mrs. Queen."

A hint of a smile appeared on her still lovely pink lips and she took a deep breath. "Fine," she said. Then she looked up at Ray, "So are we flying or driving?"

Ray shrugged and grinned. "I guess that depends on if Oliver's okay with me sweeping his wife off her feet."

"Haven't missed that," Oliver grumbled as he stood again. Then all humor dropped from his voice as he turned to Ray. "You'll take care of her?"

Ray's seriousness echoed his own, and he gave an emphatic nod. "You have my word, Oliver. I'll give you the coordinates of the ship and you can meet us there. With any luck by the time you make it through that mess up there, Felicity will be walking again."

Oliver swallowed hard and, not caring that Ray was watching, leaned down and kissed his wife, "Be safe. I love you."

"I love you," she said, gripping his hand tightly for a minute. Then doing her best to square her crooked shoulders she looked at Ray, "Let's go, flyboy."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Okay – this story keeps getting away from me. Obviously there still needs to be one more chapter, hopefully you're enjoying this enough that it's a good thing. And there's a Doctor Who reference here, I blame Arrow, they made Felicity and Ray's affection for the show canon after all.

Chapter Five

For an old man on an "appropriated" motorcycle, Oliver could move pretty fast. And apparently thanks to what had gone down a few hours ago, and probably Connor's efforts over the last few years, people seemed to be giving a man in green leather wide berth. He reached the coordinates that Ray had given him and felt a surge of panic. There was no ship.

Had they stolen her for something? Needed her skills or her…then, before he could truly panic, the ship became visible and a hatch opened in its side. Sara appeared, walking down a ramp toward him.

"Breathe Ollie," she said, holding up her hands. "She's fine – better than fine. Follow me."

Oliver did his best not to gawk as Sara led him into the ship. He'd seen a lot over the last thirty years, even been friends with people who were actually from other planets, and yet it was still bizarre to be walking around in a machine that could navigate time and space.

"Through there," Sara said, pointing down the corridor, then with a comforting pat on his good shoulder she said. "And when it's your turn, try not to be too stubborn?"

Oliver frowned, but before he could ask what she meant Sara sauntered away.

He approached a small bright room and saw Felicity lying on a table - a Felicity who didn't have scars on her face. Ray was standing next to her, a hand on her shoulder. He looked up at a monitor on the wall and spoke to it. "Gideon, can the damage to Felicity's lungs be repaired?"

A pleasant computer voice with a British accent responded. "Not entirely, Dr. Palmer, I'm afraid that level of chronic damage is beyond even my capabilities. Though I am providing her with a customized anti-biotic, anti-viral cocktail which should ameliorate the symptoms and make her less susceptible to pneumonia in the future."

"Thank you," Ray said to the computer, and then he looked down at Felicity. "You're sure about the other scars?"

Felicity nodded, she looked awestruck, but her voice sounded firm. "I earned them and…" her voice stopped as she noticed him standing in the doorway. Instantly she put out her hand, and Oliver walked over not even waiting for Ray to move as he stepped forward to take it.

He only now realized there was moisture in his eyes. "Hey you."

Felicity's smile was brighter than he'd seen it in a long time, and she squeezed his hand hard. He marveled that her shoulder and collar bone seemed to be aligned now. "Ray was right," she said, "this place is better than Star Trek."

Ray let out a sigh, "I'm sorry we couldn't fix everything."

"The chip?" Oliver asked worriedly, looking between the two of them.

To his surprise it was the computer that answered. "The microprocessor was unrepairable Mr. Queen, fortunately I was able to restore some function to Mrs. Queen's spinal cord and nerves."

"Enough to walk?" Oliver asked.

Ray let out a long sigh and stepped back from the table. "Let's find out."

Felicity struggled as she tried to sit up, and Oliver was there in an instant, helping her. It took him a moment to realize that she was sliding her legs over the side of the bed.

"Holy freaking cow," she said, staring down at herself.

Oliver let out a choked laugh. Felicity slowly and awkwardly eased herself down and Oliver was grateful when Ray stepped forward again, taking her other hand. Her legs buckled as she tried to take her full weight, but the two men kept her from falling.

"Just try to take a step," Ray said. "Your muscles aren't used to holding you up just yet."

And miraculously she did. One foot moved, and then the other. It was painfully slow and she was leaning hard on Oliver, but she could move her legs.

A wheelchair – a far nicer one than the one she had back at their old lair waited on the other side of the room, and Felicity made it that far, sinking tiredly into it.

"It's probably going to take a lot of work before you're totally up and about," Ray said, "but…"

Oliver cut him off, "Ray," he said, extending his hand toward the other man. "I don't know how I'm ever going to thank you."

Ray shook his hand, a big grin on his face. "Well, Gideon did most of the work. So…" he said, looking at Oliver's mechanical arm. "Your turn?"

Shocked, Oliver dropped Ray's hand and stepped back. "You can't fix what's not there, Ray," he said, angrily.

"Actually," Ray said raising his eyebrows. "We can. For Gideon regrowing limbs is almost easier than repairing them."

For a few seconds Oliver let himself think about it - being whole again, being able to actually feel the bow in his hand, being able to hold his wife like he had before….then he remembered the lessons the loss of that arm had taught him.

Oliver took another step away from Ray and the bed that Felicity had been lying on. "No," he growled, shaking his head. "No."

"Oliver," Felicity said pleadingly, reaching for him – her hand landing on his good arm.

He looked down at her, and though he softened his voice, he was clear about his decision. "It's tempting, Felicity. Too tempting. But I don't want to forget, I don't want to …" He struggled to explain his feelings. That man who'd had two arms, even for all of his losses and fears, had taken far too much for granted. He wouldn't risk becoming him again.

Taking a deep breath, he gave her half a smile. "Unless you're not interested in an old guy with one arm anymore?"

She let out a little laugh and shook her head, but he could see a hint of understanding in her eyes. "No, I think you're stuck with me Oliver Queen."

"Well, if you're sure," Ray said, pinning Oliver with a look.

"I am," Oliver said.

Ray looked at him like he was crazy and shook his head. "I guess we need to get you back home then."

They walked out of the medbay and Oliver had to swallow hard when he realized how easily Felicity was pushing her chair. Felicity glanced around them as they went and she said to Ray, "This thing is pretty impressive – but as a fellow Whovian I'm surprised you haven't figured out how to make it look like a blue police box."

Ray laughed, "Hmmm...I'm sure Rip would love that. Hey, have you noticed he…"

They were cut off when Sara came walking toward them. "Oliver, Connor was wondering if you'd like to help us out with one more little problem before we leave you."

"Sure," Oliver said. He looked down a Felicity. "Meet you back at the bunker?"

She frowned. "Fine, but remember, no matter how awesome you were today, you're still a grandfather."

He leaned down and kissed her head. "Yes, dear."

Sara folded her arms, giving them an appraising look. "I figured it was a toss-up – either you two would be an epic love affair, or you'd kill each other."

Felicity grinned and again Oliver had to clench his teeth against a tide of emotion when he realized how long it had been since he'd seen that particular smile. She gave Oliver a playful punch and said, "Well, jury's still out - because if you get hurt I'll kill you."

Rolling her eyes, Sara said. "C'mon Mr. Smoak, let's get this done."

Oliver rolled his eyes, but he followed his friend out of the ship, for one last job together.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Finally an end to this thing, thanks for your patience. And congrats to the fandom and the Arrow cast for 'Ship of the Year and all of the other glorious SDCC fun!

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

When Oliver, Sara, and Connor arrived back at the building that was currently "home," Oliver found Felicity with an old fashioned tablet in her hand giving orders to Ray, who was messing with what looked like a generator. She was standing, but he noticed her wheelchair was nearby.

When she looked up she smiled easily. "We're going to be back to full power now, which means we need to get downstairs and clean up the old system. If I can…"

Oliver held his hand up to stop her, feeling an almost choking wave of concern. It was one thing for him to be back in action, it was another thing for her to be in the line of fire. "Take it easy," he said, trying to make the words sound like a suggestion instead of a command. "I know you're feeling better but I don't want you to push too hard."

He saw understanding cross her features and she gave him a slightly sad smile. "Just the tech, Oliver, I promise."

"That's all it was ever supposed to be," he reminded her, growling slightly.

She stuck out her lip in a resemblance of her old pout. It wasn't just the scars, whatever magic that ship's med bay had worked, she looked at least a decade younger. "Does that mean you won't clear off my computers?"

He tried to fight a smile and failed. "No," he said with a heavy sigh. "I like being happily married."

"Smart man," Ray said climbing to his feet. He hit a button on the generator and the lights in the building flickered on. "You should be set." Giving them a smile that didn't reach his eyes he said, "I guess that means Sara and I better get going."

Oliver stepped forward and extended his good arm to Ray. He had to clear his throat as his old friend shook his hand. "Never gonna be able to thank you enough."

Ray's smile was brighter, as he shook Oliver's hand with enthusiasm. "No need," he pinned Oliver with a look and smirked a little. "It's what friends are for, right?"

Oliver let out an annoyed huff, but couldn't help but return the grin. "Have a good trip, Ray."

Oliver turned to say goodbye to Sara, but she shook her head. "I'll walk you down."

Connor, who had remained silent through the whole exchange, said, "I don't suppose we could change your mind, could we? You all seem to know what to do in a fight."

Sara just laughed and headed toward the elevator. When they got inside though, her face was serious. "Ollie? About my dad and Laurel…" she paused.

This was one thing he knew they shouldn't talk about. "Huh-uh," he said firmly. He chose his next words and his verb tenses very carefully. "You're a family Sara, you'll always be a family. Nothing in the past or the future changes that."

For a moment he expected her to fight, but then she shrugged and gave a flippant smile that didn't reach her eyes. "True, and if our little mission succeeds, this," she gestured around them, "is all going to disappear anyway."

Connor looked between Oliver and Sara his eyebrows drawing together. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he asked.

"Better not to think about it," Oliver grumbled as the elevator doors opened.

The lights came on automatically as they entered the room, and just for a moment there was a part of him that expected to see Diggle, and Speedy, and Laurel come out from the shadows and stand by his side.

Oliver closed his eyes to chase away the ghosts and walked forward into the wreck of the room. "We have a lot of work to do. Grant Wilson did a good job of keeping the criminal element of the city together. Now there will plenty of people to fill the vacuum." He turned to face Sara

"I feel like I should stay," Sara said, her voice truly regretful as she looked around at the remains of had once been a solid base of operations.

"Before Ray left he told me why Rip brought all of you together." Oliver said, taking a step toward his old friend. "It's important, Sara." And maybe if they were all lucky the future Ray and Sara and Rip carved would make their future a better place. A place where he got to grow old surrounded by his friends and his family.

"I just hate the idea of leaving you here to fix it alone," Sara protested.

"I'm not alone," Oliver said, looking at Connor - at John Diggle's son - who nodded his agreement at Oliver's words. And though Oliver had said it largely to assuage Sara's concern, he felt a surge of hope at the idea of working with Connor… and, heaven save them, Felicity again, to save the city.

"Just be careful alright," Sara said earnestly.

That almost made him laugh, especially coming from her. "Well, you should know better than most. I rarely ever am."

Smiling, Sara reached up to wrap her arms around him. It was one of the those moments when he felt his age acutely. Especially as she reached up to touch his wrinkled cheek – her face and skin still perfect and unlined.

Sara turned to Connor, pointing a finger at the young man's chest. "You watch his back."

"Copy that," Connor said, a huge grin on his face, as Sara walked away from them.

He didn't want to watch her go – didn't want to wonder if this was yet another final farewell, "Let's get to work," he said to Connor.

They went directly to the one bank of computers that was still relatively intact and pulled the plastic off of them. Oliver couldn't help but be aware of the sound of Sara walking away, of the elevator taking her back up into the world – and into time and space.

In only minutes he heard the elevator start again, and old habits made him step away from their efforts to clean and move down toward the shotgun that was still within reach.

Connor shot him an alarmed look, "Do I need…"

"Probably just Felicity," Oliver said, praying that he was right. "But old habits die hard."

Connor held up his hands. "They kept you alive, man. That's what's important."

He sounded so much like his father in that moment that Oliver couldn't help but smile. The elevator doors came open to the welcome sight of Felicity, now back in her wheelchair. The tablet was tucked into her lap, and he again marveled at how easily she pushed the chair forward.

She saw that the computers were uncovered. Oliver had also dared to try turning them on. "Two monitors!' she said sounding delighted. "That's better than I thought after a decade of disuse. One of the first things we need to do is make a run to the warehouse. There are so many things there that might be able to help us get the city back under some sort of control. I suggest we start with…"

"Some rest," Oliver said firmly, holding up his hands.

Felicity shook her head, her grey-brown hair swishing around her shoulders. "I don't need to rest. I just had a magical de-aging makeover."

It didn't matter. Oliver wanted her to slow down, to have a minute to breathe and think before charging into hero girl mode. Yes, he intended to help the city. If for no other reason than to spend more time with Connor. But there were also other considerations – tracking down their family, staying under Vandal Savage's radar…

Actually, he needed to slow down. "Yeah," he growled pinning his wife with a look. "But I didn't."

She let out a impatient huff, and looked over at Connor. "Hey, um Green Arrow….can you give Oliver and I a couple of hours? Apparently us old people need a nap."

Connor grinned wide, "Yes ma'am."

Without another word he disappeared into the shadows of the lair. The fact that he didn't need to take the elevator said a lot about the kid's skill.

Oliver watched as Felicity wheeled over and set her tablet on the edge of the raised platform. Then she lifted up her arms. "Help me walk to bed, Mr. Queen?"

The sight filled him with more hope than anything else that had happened that day. "With pleasure, Mrs. Queen."

She was leaning heavily on him by the time they reached the tucked away corner that had served as their room over the past few months. Oliver set her down on the bed, and then pulled a stool over so he could sit facing her.

"Quite the day we've had," he said, putting his elbows on his knees and leaning toward her.

She let out a little laugh. "Quite a life we've had," she said, moving so that their faces were only inches apart.

He nodded tiredly, "You know I never…"

Her fingers came up and covered his lips, stopping the apology he'd been about to give. "I'm glad I've spent it with you."

Closing his eyes, he tilted his head, and her hand shifted to cradle the side of his face, her fingers sliding into his beard. Swallowing hard, he felt the conflict that had haunted him from almost the moment they'd met all those years ago. If he hadn't gone to her office, she might be… He stopped himself; he was too selfish to wish they'd never known each other. More than that, he knew Felicity had made her own choices. If she could live with them, he had to do the same.

Opening his eyes, he looked at her. "Thank you."

Her expression was confused. "For what?"

"For giving me something to live for during the past fifteen years," he said.

She smiled – it was wide and bright and unmarred by scars. Then she kissed him, and Oliver hoped that however Sara's team changed the past, his future would include Felicity.


End file.
